Feb 15, 2019 17:46:48 GMT -6
edward wilson what a wretched world. general info
appearance His crimson eyes, truly, are not simply red-colored but show off three tomoes— a shape that resembles a comma— that circle the pupil. At least, when he is using his powers. Otherwise, his eyes are just as black as his hair color. His do is short and not particularly messy. The entirety of his visage is hidden by an orange mask with a spiral pattern focused around his right eye He is not particularly the muscular guy, but he has a toned and refined body. His wardrobe of choice is a black long-sleeve top that covered his neck and chin, a pair of black gloves, a pair of dark-colored pants, a long green scarf and standard shoes and white stirrups. On his waist, he wears a thick black belt with armur-like metal plates attached to it and similar plates on his upper arms. None of his attire is likely visible, other than the shoes since he tends to put on a large cloak. personality
Edward is an individual that would seem to show off characteristics of a hermit; he is collected and is not the kind of person to usually assault anyone with a precise goal or order. Given his loyalty to Zeredah, he would now follow any order of the assembly with any and all efforts necessary— he is a workaholic, almost. But, other than his ‘professional’ persona, given his five hundred years, there is more than meets the eye with him. Even though, he hides more sadness than most would be able to take. It would be hard to interact with him to begin with him, though; his time as an outcast did not do him well and can hardly open up with anybody. And whoever does, is likely to be criticized heavily by him or rather, well, not being spared any comment he might have for them. No matter, though, for he is difficult to satisfy— nor is he ever with himself. The man has grown a numb behavior; he can not quite easily express himself or well, nor can anyone receive a response, especially emotional from him, even though, he secretly wishes he had somebody he could rely on what he truly feels, but with how old he actually feels, he’s almost too proud to open up to just anybody. After all the things he has gone through in his life and the pain he inflicted to himself; he has also developed a little intrigue to seeing others suffer, instead. abilities Illusion Manipulation — Edward has the power to create, shape and manipulate illusions. His strength is eye-contact induced illusionery that allows him to dig within a person’s consciousness and awake their worst fears to the nearest level of reality that one could achieve. He can mirror illusions in the physical world, but they are far more generalized and not as far-fetched and specific; that is one of his limitations. He can not affect the Undead and he is limited by the amount of illusions he can pull off at once, for each puts strain to his eyes, rendering him temporarily blind if exercised for far too long. Dimensional Storage — Nameless has discovered that he is capable of storing about anything, other than living beings, within himself; to be precise, he can pull out about anything he stores within the depths of his tunic. There are no limits to the size, however, they are not weightless when he pulls them out— therefore, he will also need to put a certain physical effort to store or pull out heavier objects. He could technically store ‘attacks’, but he is widely limited and unable to store them as long as it isn’t a physical assault or elemental, otherwise, he can nullify such, but rendering himself vulnerable to further attacks while doing so. Immortality — He is unable to die by his own hands, he is unaffected by age, for he looks as if he still is in his late twenties or early thirties at best. It is very difficult for him to fall to any illnesses as well. But he can be killed by others. backstory Edward Wilson was born in Lorsette, from a pair of ‘relatively’ loving parents— he remembered them as a couple of figures that could be severe but diligent in their manners, for they lived in what could be considered at the time, in 1440, complete luxury almost. Truly, one would have to go ahead and consider just how far-fetched luxury could be in such a distant past; but at the time, it was either that or suffering poor conditions of hygiene or famine. The child was instructed properly not at one of the education buildings but was assigned a private instructor among those that were reserved for the illustrious families at the time. Unlike many other children, he enjoyed the form of education but not in a passionate sense, rather, he simply did not mind it too much but rather he preferred to play with… his parents’ servant. Edward’s whole world was within the walls of his household. They were to crumble soon, regardless. In December of 1454, though, the arrival of what could have been considered the spark of revolution took over. As a child, he did not really understand any of it very well, nor did he hear too much about what was going on outdoors. However, his parents were furious— they stood against such movement in almost any mean; politically, economically— and only a few were to learn what was to happen to those who would stand against such individuals. One day, the household was set on fire… for the young Edward, barely were his fourteen years old’s sight ever met such fierce and dangerous images as the fire crept even to him… if it weren’t for the dear old servant that could still manage to toss him out of his room, that was now only filled with a cloud of dark smoke. The very floor beneath him could not stay still; he was sweating, his crying eyes looked for comfort… and his lips cried for his parents. A nefarious creature responded to his screams; a terror in its very concrete and abstract sense— with bloody, naked flesh that had the boy fall to his knees, crying a river beneath his now empty eyes— a beastly noise could then be heard throughout the house… His parents, that had been trying to find their way through the smoke and the debris and run for the child… but the moment their ears picked up on the sudden high frequency… they lost their hope to see their son ever again, in just a heartbeat. However, it was the monster’s call for help. The four-legged, flesh-like terror suddenly engaged in a series of screams, ever so slowly stepping back and away from the boy until it collapsed to the ground. The boy watched, gaping in awe as he could not process what had just happened before him… he was shocked, terrified but a sense of relief ran through him as now the monster had collapsed. The child ran down the stairs and immediately his eyes cried out in happiness as he saw his parents, whom, from afar, instead saw his eyes...— his bloody, crimson orbs. Edward wanted to reach them, but they kept walking away… calling him a monster. He was mortified— he was confused, he was… dying inside. His hand tried to reach for his father’s leg, but in only one exchange of sight between the two; of a scared child and his panicking father, the man was quick to scream and reach for the gun he had kept holstered to his belt as he unloaded a projectile... right through his own throat. What about his mother? What happened to her is better not to be told, but she could not make it past the incident. But their last moments remained engraved in the only survivor: Edward. He lost the ability to speak ever since then; the authorities wished to take him to a building, but the slightest eye contact with him resulted in a bloody mess for any and all. He did not understand at all. At first, he sought people at first, but their reactions— their screams… it only led him to drift apart from civilization’s reach. He hid in alleyways and watched terrors have their way with the people. Edward ran, he wished to survive; but not only from the monsters, but rather, from humans themselves. They hurt him. Word had spread about him; at the smallest sight of the boy’s weak and hungry form not one person wouldn’t panic and run. And he was left alone, every time in the midst of a what had now become a ghost street, with no one but himself… sobbing silently. Among all of those, though, one day, Edward was approached by a pretty, young lady. Her name was Layla and she simply wished to sympathize with him out of everybody else— the boy hid his sight for her, as he knew what would have happened otherwise. At first, he tried to simply tell her to leave or just ignored her completely. But she insisted, and eventually, day after day of her visiting him— the two began conversing. The boy was breaking out of his shell with her and managed to get a few words in, if not, entire phrases. It was a beautiful friendship, at some point, where Edward could finally smile and at least chuckle about things— she was someone he could count on to forget what he was truly going through… but happiness never lasts. And neither it did this time. She had fallen for him; he was still a pretty, young boy and yet… he was so serious and intriguing and, after she got to know him a little better, she could tell he was a good person. One day, she decided to tease him as she asked him to close his eyes— and that was when she leaned in for a quick kiss on the lips; she expected both of them to laugh it off or well, maybe, who knew. But instead, the moment the young man felt such a sensation— his crimson orbs opened wide once more as they met her gaze. She screamed. Layla now hung in his arms, as a corpse… with a crying Edward holding her before she finally let her go— the man cried out loudly in the dark alleyway they used to meet at— each tear was followed by a scream that no longer possessed a touch of humanity. The next thing he knew, was that he was holding a sharp, dirty stake as he finally tossed the tip deep in his chest… At first, he simply let his head hang with his cranium meeting his back— a smile on his face, as finally, he would have been able to rest— but said relief, soon turned into terror. His smile was no more, instead, his lips fell, his eyes trembled… he felt as wholesome as ever— he was not dying. He tried again and again, and again. Each time, though, he only cried harder— his only wish was to die and yet, life could not even grant him such. His willpower, his desire, his fear… it all soon nullified into an eternal numbness and before he knew it; one hundred years had already passed. Some people would call him gifted. He would rather call himself cursed. Another hundred years passed; he had seen much. But this time, no one could any longer look at him— for he had been adorning a mask to hide his gaze from anyone who could have otherwise met their fate. Yet, though, he had not gone quite forgotten and to that day, still defined a terror just like the others. He was truly not. Yet. One night, as he sat on top of a rooftop… in the night of a blood moon— he was visited. A lady, but not just any, she had charisma and edges that just no woman would possess— Zeredah would have not been able to initiate a revolution, otherwise. But yet, with just their meeting, he soon found himself deep within the Assembly. For among all, it was possibly the only bunch of people that could he could somewhat mirror himself into; for the first time after two hundred years. misc 🔴 Edward does not typically introduce himself. He says he doesn’t have a name. Therefore, he’s also nicknamed as “Nameless”. 🔴 He also works as a librarian, but not during day time. He usually hangs around the library at night, silently organizing and cleaning the shelves while mumbling an old melody. 🔴 Edward may have a platonic crush on Zeredah. 🔴 He does not fear fire itself, but surely its flames do no pleasure to his sight. 🔴 His hobbies are fishing and cooking; however, he never finds a way to express them fully. | roleplayer info ☆ NAME nico ☆ RP EXPERIENCE too much ☆ TIMEZONE gmt +1 ☆ GENDER male ☆ AGE twenty-six ☆ OTHER CHARACTERS n/a ☆ FACE CLAIM NARUTO, obito uchiha ---------------------- THIS CHARACTER BELONGS TO NICO. DO NOT STEAL. |
MADE BY ★MEULK